Suicide Mission
by rachebell
Summary: My first multi-chapter. It's told from a Mikita standpoint but pretty much features everyone. It's basically, in my eyes, the worst thing that could possibly happen to them. I'll try to upload pretty regularly. PLEASE REVIEW SO I KNOW HOW I'M DOING!
1. Chapter 1

**Nikita**

The October sun warmed her bare shoulders as she walked along the New York sidewalk carrying the groceries for her and Michael's dinner. She had decided to surprise him when he got back from his basic surveillance mission in Boston by cooking his favourite meal. She glanced at her wrist. 5pm. That gave her plenty of time to cook his favourite stir fry; his flight was due at six, and then at least another hour from the airport.

As she jogged up the stairs to their airy loft apartment she thought back to this day last year. She'd just got back from Hong Kong and debriefed with Ryan. Her and Michael hadn't really had time to talk, but they had a date that night…

A whole year engaged to her amazing fiancé. A crazy year. And next week the whole team were booked onto a private jet to Goa, for their wedding. Her stomach turned over a little at the thought and her slight smile widened.

She placed the key in the door heard the slight click as she turned it. Kicking off her sandals and placing the bags on the counter, she unloaded Michael's favourite beer and the food into the refrigerator before padding into the bathroom to take a shower.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in a loose, silky robe, she walked into the kitchen as she dried her hair with a towel. Grabbing a beer from the fridge she walked over to her phone to check the time. 6.15. She punched in Michael's number and hit dial. His flight should have landed by now.

*RING* *RING*

Michael: Michael here.

Nikita: Hey babe

Michael: Hey!

Nikita: How was your trip?

Michael: Good. The mission went well but the flight was a little bumpy.

Nikita: So does that mean you don't want any dinner? I'm making chop suey…

Michael: (Laughing) I don't think I could say no to that even if the plane crashed!

Nikita: Good. So I'll see you in an hour?

Michael: Great. Do you want me to grab something to drink on the way home?

Nikita: Already done. In fact I'm enjoying an ice cold beer right now.

Michael: I KNEW there was a reason I'm marrying you!

Nikita: Just one?

Michael: OK. Maybe two. At a push.

Nikita: Uh huh. Right back at you buddy!

Michael: Just kidding. I don't think there's a reason NOT to marry you.

Nikita: That's more like it! I'll see you soon…soon to be husband. Love you.

Michael: Love you more soon to be wife. See you soon!

She smiled as she hit the end call button on the phone and turned on the stove, busying herself making the dinner.

**Michael**

'Love you more soon to be wife. See you soon!', he said, and then ended the call. Smiling at his phone he picked up his briefcase from the sidewalk at his feet and hopped into a waiting cab. He pulled out his tablet and started to write the mission report to kill time. Traffic was pretty bad so the cab ride took an over an hour, instead of the usual fifty or so minutes. But the case report was almost done by the time he got home, and he figured it meant more uninterrupted time with Nikita so he wasn't too bothered. He paid the taxi driver and grabbed his stuff. As he jogged lightly up the stairs of their building he could smell the amazing aroma of his favourite meal.

He turned the key in the door. 'Hey babe I'm home! Dinner smells great.' He said as he walked into the living room and dropped his bag on the sofa. 'Nikita?' he asked as he shrugged off his suit jacket. Still no reply. He walked around the apartment looking for her. Nothing. She must have gone out to grab something. Her phone was sitting on the counter. He felt the pan. Cold. The open beer. Warm. He turned around telling himself not to worry. But something caught his eye. One of the floor to ceiling windows glinted in a way it really shouldn't at this time of day. He rushed over. There was a small, round, hole in the middle. Right in line with where someone would stand if they were cooking. The hole was about 9mm wide.

No. He thought. No. His hands grabbed his hair. 'NO!' he snarled. And then there was nothing. Nothing but rage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Michael**

In a red haze he grabbed his phone and called Birkhoff.

BIRKHOFF: Em, Hey Mikey. Any chance this can wait 'cus I'm kind of in the middle of a really intense game of -

MICHAEL: Nikita's missing. From our home. Bullet hole in the window. Get me eyes and an alpha team.

BIRKHOFF: Already on it.

Hanging up, Michael stopped to think for the first time. And he nearly broke down. But he had to be strong. Strong enough to find her. There was no way she was dead.

He looked around. The scene was spotless with no blood; either very good or very bad. It could mean the cleaners had been in. He walked over to the window to examine the hole further, the cool, analytical, logical agent in him taking over. He placed his fingertip into the small hole. But something felt wrong. The hole was impressed on this side. The shot had been fired from inside the apartment. He strode quickly over to the stove and popped down the extractor fan lid. The gun Nikita didn't think he knew about was missing.

She's alive.

**Nikita**

She glanced around the construction filled shell of her old loft. It was the only place she could think of to run to. She dropped her head to her hands and thought about what had just happened.

Nikita was floating around the kitchen, humming to herself and cooking Michael's dinner when she heard a crackling noise. Whirling around she saw the T.V. screen flicker and Heidecker's creepy face appeared. She shuddered, but was not scared. Every so often the face would pop up to give instructions on where Michael could pick up his anti-rejection medicine. He was due the last batch any day now.

'Hello, Nikita.'

'Where this month? The parking lot of a dodgy bar again? Or is it inside another handbag in Macys?'

'Never worry. The last batch is being delivered to your apartment tonight.'

'No. You can't come here.'

'Relax. I've ordered you a pizza.'

'I don't like this.'

'Just think. After tonight you'll never hear from us again. And we won't ever need to see Michael again.' The picture started flickering and Heidecker's face started to melt away. Nikita paid attention, trying to memorise the features appearing before her. And then she froze. 'Just like you won't ever see Michael again', said the one voice that could really make her scared. The picture firmed up.

'Hello Nikita. How have you been?' simpered Amanda.

'No. No. What are you doing?'

'Aren't you going to thank me? After all I did give your fiancé a new hand. I'm quite generous you know.'

'What have you done?' Nikita snarled

'Well I never finished teaching you that lesson about how loved ones are liabilities.'

'What do you want? Just tell me!'

'I don't want anything, Nikita. I'm just here to give you some information about Michael's new hand. Call it a maintenance guide. You see, the medication you've been so dutifully dishing out to your fiancé has not only been stopping his hand from being rejected, but it has also been changing the composition of his blood.'

The colour in Nikita's face was steadily draining with every word Amana uttered.

Amanda continued: 'There is now a chemical called 'polydadmac' in his blood in quite high quantities. But don't worry, it's organic, I know how you love to save the planet. Anyway, this chemical is a coagulant, activated by the small capsule I have planted inside the thumb. Undetectable right now.' She held up a small button keychain. 'But if I hit this button, Michael's blood turns into red cement.'

'No. You're lying.'

'I think we both know I'm not.'

'What do you want?'

'Like I said, I don't want anything. This is all up to you. You have a choice. Option one. You wait for Michael to come home and I drop him in front of you. Option two. You stage your disappearance and you go. I will then send Michael the exact copy of your hand that I've grown as proof you are dead. Appropriate isn't it.'

'You're evil. I'll stop this. I always do.'

'No Nikita. Not this time. You see that same capsule that I have planted in Michael's thumb has a hormone detector in it. Every time Michael's brain releases that happy 'Nikita' cocktail of hormones it pings me. All of those 'tests' we've been doing on his arm all these months? That was just me fine tuning the recipe. And the next time I get pinged, I hit the button. The only thing you can do to save him is to 'die' for him.'

'Why don't you just kill me?'

'Kill you? Give me credit. Nikita all I have ever tried to do is teach you. Help you. Besides, having to live without him will cause you far more pain than death.'

Nikita was blank. She was all out of ideas. This could not be happening.

'Oh and don't try getting him underground, I don't need coverage to get the message. The Shop has made Michael's brain into my own personal cell network. His talents are increasing! Goodbye Nikita. And I hope for Michael's sake you never see him again.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Nikita**

The screen went dead as her brain ran through the options. They all ended with Michael dead. All but one. She had to do what Amanda wanted.

There was no other way; Michael had to think she was dead. At least for as long as it took her to disable that trigger and kill Amanda.

She ran into her bedroom, grabbed her favourite photo from her nightstand and pulled on some clothes. Then she walked into the kitchen, grabbed the gun she had secretly stashed above the stove, secured the silencer and shot a single round at the window. Hopefully Michael would think she'd been taken and killed; it had to look like there had been a fight and she'd been shot. And when Amanda sent him the creepy arm it would confirm she had died. He had to believe it.

Stashing the gun in her waistband she walked to the door of their home. Pulling it open, she turned to imprint the picture in her memory. A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered, all at once, all the love this apartment had held. But she had to go. Time was running out. As she pulled the door shut behind her she had the sense she was closing the door on much more than just an apartment, but she pushed her sadness to the back of her mind and focused on her new mission. Step one. Run.

Nikita ran down the few flights of stairs and out the delivery entrance of the apartments to avoid the cameras. As she glanced out of the alley she saw a cab pull up and she stopped dead. The door opened and out stepped Michael. A slight smile on his face, he exchanged a joke with the driver as he paid the fare. Hearing his laughter felt like a dagger stabbing her in the chest and for a split second all she wanted to do was run to him. But she couldn't. Maybe never again. And suddenly she realised that Amanda was right; this was going to cause her so much more pain than death. Nikita feasted her eyes on her fiancé jogging across the sidewalk; and then, with the spin of a revolving door, he was gone.

Her heart felt like it was about to split in two. But he was alive. And knowing that allowed her to move. To run away from Michael and save his life. Dodging the street cameras she ran and ran. Until she stopped. She was at her old loft, the place that had kept her safe before would do it again, except this time it was saving Michael too.

**Michael**

He stormed into operations to a hive of activity. As he strode up the the hub the noise stifled in a ripple. He climbed the few steps all in one and looked up to find Birkhoff, Ryan and Alex clustered around the desktop. On the plasma above their heads was a picture of his beautiful girl, with missing emblazoned along the bottom. Their three friends turned around to face him. Alex was the first to speak.

'Michael… I'm so… I… We will find her.' Alex seemed lost for words.

'I know. Thank you all.' His voice cracked.

A moment's tense silence passed before Ryan spoke, his tone testing the room.

'OK… So this is the last camera image Birkhoff has been able to grab of her.' He said as an image of Nikita in a sundress carrying shopping bags flashed up onto the screen. She was smiling, and looked radiant in the sun as she walked towards the entrance to their building.

Michael tore his eyes away from the screen.

'Nothing since she entered the apartment? She just disappeared?'

'It looks like…Wait. Shadownet's just got something.' Birkhoff typed like crazy and the picture on the screen changed to a delivery van being loaded up with a large box at the side of their building. 'I'm really sorry Mikey, I don't know why that took so long to find. I swear I checked that camera already.'

'Just track it.'

'GOT IT! Sending the address to your phone now. It's not far.' Michael was already out the door before he finished, Alex wasn't far behind.

Thirty minutes later the car roared to a stop and Michael and Alex jumped out, guns in hand. They were under a bridge and the van from the video was nowhere to be seen. They ran around the desolate wasteland looking for some sign of why the van had come here. Then Michael saw it. On the bank of the Hudson a glint of red caught his eye in the setting sun. With every stride he took the pool of blood looked bigger. It was too much blood. Way too much. Michael and Alex arrived at the bank at the same time to find an ornate, white box, sitting atop the trail of blood leading into the water.

Michael picked up the box and opened it. As soon as he saw what was inside he dropped it and fell to the ground, broken like a marionette with its strings cut off.

The box bounced on the ground with a bang which to them sounded far louder than an object that size should make. Out fell a slender left hand, bludgeoned at the wrist, with a delicate platinum and diamond ring sitting perfectly on the third finger.

Alex's hand flew to her mouth and she noticed the small piece of paper which had also dropped out of the box. Five words were etched into the thick paper, in that unforgettable swirling script Alex had hoped she would never see again.

'Til Death Us Do Part'


End file.
